


Some Things Are Meant to Be

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Background Roxlin, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For I can't help falling in love with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Are Meant to Be

"Did you see the film _Trading Places_?" Harry asks. It's a bit of a longshot, but it would go a long way toward explaining their current situation, and what he's asking of Eggsy.

Eggsy shakes his head. "No," he mumbles, almost as if he's sorry he hasn't, like he feels he's already letting Harry down.

Which is completely ridiculous, of course.

"How about _Nikita_?" he asks. He's not sure why he's so insistent. He knows it's not because he worries that he'll fuck it up if he has to explain it himself. It surely can't be because he can't bear the thought of Eggsy deciding that he's had enough strange shit for one day and turning around and walking away.

Eggsy shakes his head again, this time with a blank look.

" _Pretty Woman_?" Harry says, and he's scraping the bottom of the barrel now for films Eggsy might possibly have seen.

Judging by the look on Eggsy's face, though, this too is a miss.

He sighs a little. This isn't Quiz Night at the local, and he can't stand here forever. "All right," he says, giving in. "My point is that the lack of a silver spoon has set you on a certain path – but you needn't stay on it. If you're prepared to adapt and learn, you can transform."

And Eggsy's face just lights up. "Oh," he says in dawning comprehension. "Like in _My Fair Lady._ "

Harry's heart skips a beat. It's not just that Eggsy knows the film. It's that he admits to knowing it without any of the usual mocking condescension a young man his age would normally display.

And yes, why not? He can be Henry Higgins. Hell, they even share the same initials. And if it makes him smile to recall that he always believed Henry ended up with Eliza, well, that's his private business.

"Well," he says, pleased and trying hard not to show it, "you're full of surprises."

He can't wait to discover what other surprises Eggsy has in store for him.

****

"Is he gonna be all right?" Eggsy asks, and he can't keep from wincing a little.

Seeing Harry lying there in that bed, so still in his coma, makes his heart do a funny twisty thing in his chest. He can't really claim to know Harry very well yet, but already he knows how wrong this all is. Oh, Harry can be still when it suits his purposes – standing in that perfectly elegant pose outside Holborn police station; sharing a drink and information about Lee Unwin at the Black Prince. But that's not his natural state.

No, Harry is meant to be in motion, a force to be reckoned with, a man of action. He's meant to be walking the halls with casual grace, or kicking the shit out of arseholes who richly deserve it. He's meant to be here at Kingsman, watching Eggsy adapt and transform.

"You need to have patience, Eggsy," Merlin says kindly enough. "But there's hope, okay?"

He nods, his eyes still on Harry. He can't look away.

He wishes there was something he could do to help. Anything at all, no matter how dangerous or unexpected. He would be willing to try anything, if there was even the slightest chance that it would make Harry wake up again.

(Not like he hasn't thought of those old fairy tales, and true love's first kiss and all that shit. No, he hasn't thought of that _at all_.)

"If I were you, I'd concentrate on your training," Merlin says. "Get through the tests. Make him proud." 

And Eggsy intends to do just that. When Harry wakes up -– and it's _when_ , not _if_ -– Eggsy is still going to be aiming for Lancelot's position.

He's still going to be right here.

****

_I'll sort this mess out when I get back._

He certainly intends to do just that. It amazes him, the strength of the disappointment he feels over Eggsy's failure. He never once imagined that Eggsy would do anything except join him in Kingsman, the well-earned next Lancelot.

Only it hasn't worked out that way. In fact, nothing has worked out like he planned. He's been absent for most of Eggsy's training, and even though that wasn't his fault, it still galls Harry to think of it. He wasn't there to quietly encourage Eggsy, to motivate him, to keep watch over him and feel the pride of knowing that he was going to succeed.

Except Eggsy hasn't succeeded. He's failed.

It simply won't do. Harry refuses to let it rest. As soon as he returns from Kentucky, he's going to meet with Arthur. He will plead his case, and yes, even literally plead if he must. (He suspects he will, because Chester King is just that much of a prick.)

Still, if that is what is required, he will do it. Whatever it takes to ensure that Eggsy becomes a Kingsman, as he was meant to be.

He reaches for his tablet, thinking he might as well get the ball rolling now. He can e-mail Arthur and formally request a meeting. It won't take a genius to figure out what he wants to talk about. With any luck he will have a reply from Arthur before he even reaches the States.

And if not, well, adversity has never stopped Harry before. Eggsy _will_ be a Kingsman. He is certain of that.

And after he writes Arthur, maybe he'll send something to Eggsy as well. A letter of apology, of explanation. Something to let Eggsy know how much he's come to mean to him. The idea appeals to him immensely. He even knows already how he will end it.

_Thank you for bringing some warmth into my life._

****

Princess Tilde is more than inviting, and Eggsy is certainly ready to give it a go, but halfway through unbuttoning his shirt it suddenly hits him what he's about to do. It's the sight of his suit jacket, tossed carelessly onto the bed, that does it.

More specifically, it's the suit itself. Bulletproof and bespoke. Utterly Kingsman.

_Just be grateful Harry had it made for you._

What is he doing here? What the fuck is he thinking? He's got to get back. He can't leave Roxy out there in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death. He has to call his mum and make sure she and Daisy are okay. He needs to find out what's happening out there in the world now that so many people and governments are dead.

His hard-on, which was mostly composed of adrenaline anyway, wilts in his trousers. He grabs the jacket and flings it across one arm.

"Sorry, love," he says, and then he's gone.

Back on the plane, he finds Merlin is sitting in front of his little workstation. His head is bowed and he's holding his glasses in his lap. The fingers of his other hand are pressed to his eyes. His cheeks are wet.

Seeing Merlin cry is more terrifying than everything else that's happened today. And that's saying something. Eggsy's heart leaps into his throat. "What's going on?" he says.

After a beat, Merlin looks up at him. He smiles.

"Harry is alive," he says.

****

Harry Hart doesn't believe in things like fate or predestination. He thinks destiny is a word that only belongs in films, and even then it should be used sparingly. But on a sunny Tuesday in June, he knows without a shred of doubt that he is going to spend the rest of his life with Eggsy Unwin.

It's the first time he's seen Eggsy since the day they stood in his downstairs loo and tore each other apart with words. At the time he hadn't thought to wonder how they could already be so amazingly perfect at finding just the right words to hurt each other.

But he knows now. There is truth in that old cliché. _You only hurt the ones you love._

Eggsy lingers in the doorway like he's afraid to come in, like he's worried that his mere presence will hurt Harry. Like he's uncertain if he's been forgiven – or if he even deserves forgiveness.

"Come on in," Harry says, and he's standing in the shop again, ushering Eggsy into fitting room one, ready to invite him to join Kingsman and change his life forever. He feels the same need for gentle coaxing, the same awareness that this is a moment that cannot be forced or rushed.

Eggsy hesitates a little bit longer, then he steps inside Harry's hospital room. He hasn't shaved and his eyes are red, but that could just be from exhaustion. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are thrust deep in his pockets, as though he were wearing his old baggy jeans and not the battered remains of a Kingsman suit. Dark bruises are forming on his face and jaw and his mouth is swollen, his lower lip scabbed over with a fresh cut.

He has never been more beautiful.

Harry has talked with Merlin, and he's learned a little about what happened in Valentine's bunker. He will never know it all, though. Nor does he need to. He already knows everything he needs to know.

"I'm very proud of you," he says.

Eggsy's face sort of crumples in on itself. His eyes, so changing and beautiful, fill with tears. "I thought you was dead," he says.

"As did I," Harry confesses. His survival is both extremely unexpected and deeply gratifying. Valentine's poor aim plus his reluctance to even look at the sight of blood, combined with his haste to leave the church, all left Harry wounded but alive. The doctor has only been by once, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but she told him he would be fine, although he would most likely bear an ugly scar for the rest of his life.

That's all right. Harry doesn't mind another scar.

Eggsy's shoulders hitch. He sniffles mightily and swallows hard.

Harry holds out his hand. It's all the invitation Eggsy needs. He comes forward so quickly that it's clear he was only waiting for the right moment to do so.

Eggsy fits in his arms exactly as Harry imagined he would. He closes his eyes and feels something warm and solid settle in his chest, like the tumblers of a lock falling into place. 

That's when he knows.

****

Eggsy's known it since his whole world shattered with the sound of a single gunshot. But he's not completely certain until the morning he sits at the beautiful wood table where Harry once taught him to eat like a gentleman, and he watches Harry come down the stairs.

It's Harry's first full day back in London. They arrived late last night, late enough that Eggsy felt it was safe enough to offer to stay the night without it being an insult to Harry's pride. He could maybe say that the pleased look on Harry's face then was all in his imagination – except that he knows it wasn't.

He slept well, which is something of a surprise. But then, he's been staying here whenever he can, spending more nights in Harry's guest room than in the house where he technically lives now with his mum and sister. That bed upstairs has become quite comfortable.

Still, he woke up early. He wanted to be the first one up, wanted to make sure the house was clean and perfect for Harry. He already did most of the work yesterday before getting on the plane to Kentucky, but still he fussed around as quietly as possible this morning, straightening things up and tidying while doing his best not to wake Harry up.

And now here he sits, watching Harry come slowly down the steps. The red dressing gown that Eggsy may or may not have occasionally slept beneath like a warm blanket is belted about Harry's waist. His feet are in cozy Kingsman slippers. His hair falls over his brow in loose curls that Eggsy's hands itch to touch. He looks tired yet, like he could go back to sleep for another four hours.

Eggsy stares at him and his heart misses a beat.

He wants this, he realises. He wants this every morning. He wants to watch Harry wake up. He wants to watch Harry come down those steps and look at him the way he is right now, and smile.

"Good morning," Harry says. He comes down the last step and then just stands there for a moment, gazing at Eggsy with that warm smile.

And that's when Eggsy knows for sure. This is what he wants for the rest of his life.

****

Their first kiss is right in the middle of Westminster Bridge. It's hot even for the end of July; half the people around them are wearing shorts. He and Eggsy walk along in their Kingsman suits, carrying their Rainmakers in spite of the sunny day.

They're late (again). His fault (as usual). They're walking briskly to try and make up some time. It's not an easy task, surrounded as they are by floods of tourists often stopping to take pictures of Big Ben. Most of them have the decency to move out of the way first, but an older couple stops dead in front of Eggsy, the man fumbling with the camera looped about his skinny neck.

Eggsy has to twist nimbly to one side to keep from running right into them. He swears colourfully as he bumps into Harry instead. "Fucking tourists. I'll give 'em all somethin' to stare at."

Harry looks at him. He doesn't care that they're late. He doesn't care about the crowds of people all around them. He has eyes only for Eggsy.

What he sees is a young man who has no idea how beautiful he is. Today Eggsy's eyes are the color of the summer sky. There's a fading scrape along one eyebrow from his last mission, and his tie is a rich burgundy. Earlier today he nicked half the bacon off Harry's plate, after showing up fifteen minutes early this morning to begin with and then having the nerve to ask where his breakfast was.

He sees the young man he is achingly in love with.

Sensing his stare, Eggsy looks over at him. "What?"

"You mean something like this?" Harry murmurs, and then he kisses Eggsy.

He can hear Eggsy's _mmmph_ of surprise over the noise of the traffic. In that first moment, Eggsy's mouth is slack against his. Then Eggsy is kissing him back, and everything changes.

It's a long, slow kiss. Harry raises his hand to cradle the back of Eggsy's neck. Eggsy sways up against him and sets both hands on his back, pressing them closer still, his umbrella against Harry's spine. His lips are slick and soft, his breath hot on Harry's skin. It's everything he ever imagined, everything he ever dreamed of. Nothing else exists for him then but Eggsy, and the absolute perfection of the moment.

He doesn't know how long they stand there, Merlin scolding him uselessly in one ear while Eggsy's hands roam over his back and Eggsy's tongue is in his mouth. They might have stayed there all day, but finally a noise intrudes on his consciousness, forcing him to lift his head and return to reality.

It's the people on the bridge. Those tourists with their cameras. They're applauding.

Eggsy flushes a pretty pink colour. "Fuck me," he mutters.

"Yes," Harry says, and it's a promise.

****

Harry sighs his name as he rocks in a little deeper. Eggsy catches his breath, still needing to adjust. It's been a long time since he did this, and Harry's cock is blessed with the same length that graces the rest of his body.

"Eggsy?"

"Yeah," he gasps. The discomfort is worth it, he thinks. How could he think otherwise, lying here looking up at this man he loves. Harry's eyes are almost black with lust, his skin flushed. A thick lock of hair hangs almost in his eyes, hiding the scar left by Valentine's bullet.

 _And I did that_ , Eggsy thinks. With nothing but his mouth and his hands, he's brought Harry to this state.

Harry pushes in a little deeper, and that's it, that must be the right spot because a shower of sparks suddenly ignites in Eggsy's whole body. He arches up and bears down without thinking, and Harry groans. "Eggsy..." He's almost shaking with the need to move.

Eggsy's been holding Harry's hips, not quite physically restraining him, but close enough. Now he slides both hands up, stroking the smooth skin of Harry's back. "Yeah," he urges. "Come on."

And finally Harry starts to move. Each thrust hits that same spot deep inside, and Eggsy keens out loud. His cock is hard against his belly, leaking and aching to be touched.

But he doesn't let go of Harry. He holds on and moves with him, and he never once looks away. And when Harry leans down to kiss him, Eggsy thinks he's never been happier.

****

It's the middle of August when Eggsy officially moves in. Not that there's much left for him to bring. Over the last couple weeks most of his belongings have found their way to Harry's quiet little house. Only a few boxes remain, mostly winter clothes that were hanging in his closet, his games and DVDs, and an assortment of random things that have been tossed into whatever box had room.

By four o'clock it's all done. And what would have otherwise been an unremarkable, rainy Thursday suddenly becomes a day worthy of remembering.

Harry makes them both martinis, and they toast to Eggsy's arrival.

Traditionally in the movies, there is a ceremonial gift-giving now, the key to the house handed over with proper solemnity. Harry thinks that's rather absurd; he gave Eggsy a key shortly after he returned from Kentucky with a bandage over his forehead and a newfound appreciation for living.

But he does admit that certain traditions must be observed. So after the martinis, he pulls out a small, wrapped box and gives it to Eggsy. "For you."

"What's this then?" Eggsy asks. He turns the box over.

Harry says nothing. He needs to go stir the risotto, but he doesn't want to miss this.

Slowly Eggsy peels back the dark red wrapping paper. He opens the box and looks down at the object nestled inside. "The fuck?" Completely bewildered, he pulls out the white business card. "Who the fuck is Reginald Darrow?"

"My solicitor," Harry says. "That's his card."

"I can see that," Eggsy says. He turns it over, looking for some clue as to why Harry gave it to him in a gift-wrapped box. "What I don't see is why you gave it to me like it was some real gift."

"We have an appointment with him tomorrow at 11:00," Harry says.

Eggsy stares at him. "We do?"

"Yes," Harry says. "So we can add your name to the deed to this house."

Eggsy grows very still. "…what?"

"This is your home now, too," Harry says. "I want that to be legal and official, so there can never be any question about you living here."

"Fuck," Eggsy breathes. He looks like he doesn't have the faintest idea what to say. So instead of speaking, he sets the box down and walks over to where Harry stands just outside the kitchen.

Eggsy fits perfectly in his arms, just the way he always has, right from the start. The only difference is that he's at last exactly where he belongs, in every sense of the word.

****

"Come on!" Eggsy urges. "We're gonna be fucking late!"

"They won't start eating without us," Harry says mildly. He doesn't look away from his reflection as he knots his tie.

"You don't know Rox," Eggsy mutters. "They just might."

"But I do know Merlin," Harry replies. He undoes the knot and starts over, to Eggsy's endless frustration.

"And Merlin knows you's always late," Eggsy sighs.

They should have left half an hour ago. He was dressed right on time, having been warned by Roxy what would happen if they dared to show up late to her very first posh dinner party. He's been looking forward to it all week, too. He and Harry spent ages looking for just the right bottle of wine to bring with them, and Eggsy even splurged on some new cologne for the occasion.

But now he's starting to think they're never going to even get out of the house, let alone make it to Roxy and Merlin's place. He watches Harry start yet again on his tie, and his temper flares. "Fucking hell. We ain't ever gonna be on time for anything, are we?"

Through the mirror, Harry looks at him. "I wasn't aware you felt so strongly about punctuality," he says. His tone is mild enough, but Eggsy knows he's getting pissed off now.

"Maybe it is," he fires back. "Not like you'd know, since we're always late for everything."

"And did you ever consider," Harry says, and now his voice could freeze a pot of boiling water, "that the reason I'm so often running late is because I'm forced to clean up behind you?"

Eggsy just stares at him for a second. His brain can't even compute what Harry just said, it makes so little sense. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means," Harry snaps, "that I'm tired of cleaning the toothpaste out of the sink, or wiping down the kitchen counters after you make a snack. I'm tired of being the only one who makes the bed in the morning. I'm tired of—"

"Okay, yeah, _I get it_ ," Eggsy says.

Yeah, he gets it, all right. The gloves come off then. They yell at each other and accuse each other of all kinds of stupid, petty shit. Harry throws his tie onto the bed and stalks away and Eggsy almost trips over his own feet in his haste to chase him down. They thud down the stairs and stop halfway down so they can argue some more, even resort to a little name-calling.

They wind up in the living room, and Eggsy can barely breathe by then, his chest feels so tight. He's torn between gathering up his shit and walking out the door and never coming back, and wanting to throw his arms around Harry and beg for them to stop, just stop, fucking stop. Harry looks like he could keep going for hours more yet, though, and that's what finally does Eggsy in.

He thought he'd left all this behind when he got out of that house where Dean lurked around every corner. Thought he'd got away from the shouting and the angry tension and the cold silences.

What a fucking idiot he was.

"You know what," he says, his voice leaden. "Fuck all this. I'm outta here." He turns around and stalks toward the front door. Without his coat, without his phone, without anything. He doesn't care. He just wants to get out.

"Eggsy. Wait."

He doesn't even glance behind him. "See ya, Harry." He reaches for the door.

" _Wait._ " Harry is there without warning, moving so fast and silent that even Eggsy, who knew he could do that, is taken by surprise.

More shocking, though, is the look of pure panic on Harry's face.

"Don't go," Harry says. "Please."

All of Eggsy's anger deserts him then in a rush. He feels as miserable and frightened as Harry does. "I don't want to," he says, very quiet.

"Then don't," Harry says. He's getting himself under control again, but the fear is still there in his eyes. He starts to reach out, then pulls his hand back. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says. "Eggsy, I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Eggsy says.

He barely sways forward, and in a heartbeat, Harry has both arms wrapped around him. Eggsy hugs him back with everything he's got.

It doesn't erase the ugly words, but it goes a long way toward easing their sting.

He's okay, he realises. They've had their first fight, and they both survived. It was just as awful as he always knew it would be, but they made it through. A bit bruised, maybe, but it's nothing he can't handle.

Because the thing is, they're still here. They're holding each other and he can practically feel the frantic beating of Harry's heart against his. They're here, and he can't believe how close they came. 

And maybe he's not the only one to feel that way either, judging from the quiet, desperate way Harry's hands press on his back.

It makes him feel better to know that Harry, normally so calm and composed, is just as scared shitless about the whole thing. Harry's fear proves that he's not overreacting, or being stupid and melodramatic.

"You better call Merlin," he says, his voice somewhat muffled for having his face pressed against Harry's neck.

Harry stiffens a little, maybe expecting to be chastised again for being late. "And why is that?"

" 'cause I'm about to take you upstairs and we're gonna have some fucking incredible make up sex," Eggsy says.

Harry's shoulders shake with silent laughter. "Yes," he muses. "I think that might be a good idea."

"Which part?" Eggsy says as he draws back far enough so he can look Harry in the eye.

"All of it," Harry says. He smiles a little, cautious, hopeful, waiting to see how Eggsy responds.

Eggsy smiles back. Yeah. That's what he thought, too.

****

Their first mission together is in Oslo. It's an easy one, but that doesn't mean Harry doesn't enjoy every moment of it. He and Eggsy have an informal contest to see who can get closest to their target first. Eggsy wins by pretending to bump into the man as they stand side by side on a crowded train. The tracker is placed and that's the first step accomplished -- and a victory for Eggsy.

Harry can't say that he minds losing, though. Later that night in their hotel room with Eggsy's hands in his hair, he swallows around Eggsy's cock and savors the noises Eggsy makes. He feels the satisfaction of a job well done, along with the fierce, possessive pride of knowing that only he gets to do this, only he gets to taste Eggsy, only he gets to hear those deep groans coming from Eggsy's throat.

The next day they follow their target out of the city, to the place where he's meeting with some people who want to hire him to assassinate someone for them. It's chilly for early October, with grey skies that are so low it seems like a man could reach up and touch them.

Harry does no such thing, of course. He left childish fancies behind him at an early age. He merely notes the weather and files it away as a fact to be dealt with. Sometimes the weather can change a mission, occasionally drastically so. Today it doesn't look to be a problem.

In fact, there are no problems at all. He and Eggsy have never worked together in the field before, but you wouldn't know it to watch them. As they creep into position around their targets, it takes only a few silent gestures and a meaningful look for Eggsy to communicate his intentions. Harry nods, instantly understanding his role.

Nothing goes wrong. The entire operation is flawless. And at the end of it, they stand there among the dead bodies, comparing who has more bullets embedded in his suit. (Harry wins, by two). 

Neither one of them is hurt, except for the inevitable bruising from the bulletproof material absorbing so much gunfire. Back at the hotel, they barely manage to get inside before they're taking off those suits. Harry tucks his glasses safely inside his pocket, but Eggsy just sends his sailing across the room, where they clatter on top of the dresser and nearly fall off.

Living with Eggsy is sometimes exasperating, but mostly a delight. Now there is this, working with him as well. Harry almost rips one of the buttons off Eggsy's shirt in his haste to get it off, and he doesn't remotely care. He can't remember the last time he felt so happy.

Eggsy is all warm lips and filthy words, yanking Harry's belt off and reaching for his fly. "Need you," he pants, and the bulge in his trousers is definite proof of his words. He never hesitated today, never let on that he had any worry for Harry's safety while on the mission, never let it affect his actions.

Harry could not be more proud of him.

They end up naked on the bed, kissing wet and sloppy as he slicks his cock with the lubricant he's very grateful he remembered to pack. "Yeah," Eggsy says. "Come on." One hand closes about his own cock when Harry slides two fingers inside him, and he throws his head back as he strokes himself.

Harry kisses him. He could make Eggsy come like this, his fingers deep in the warm heat of Eggsy's body, finding that hidden place inside and _stroking_ as Eggsy palms his cock. Eggsy is so beautifully responsive, especially when he's coming undone like this, cock red and straining, pale skin flushed and sheened with sweat.

"Okay," Eggsy says. "Yeah. That's good. Come on."

He pushes in slowly at first, then sliding in deep in a single stroke. Eggsy utters one of those low groans, a noise that goes straight to Harry's cock. He starts to move, never once breaking eye contact with Eggsy.

They really do have it all, he thinks.

Later, they lie in bed while the sky darkens with winter's early grasp. Harry's stomach rumbles, but he feels too content and lazy to get up and do anything about dinner just yet.

Eggsy makes a sound of quiet amusement. He's flat on his back beside Harry, lying crooked on the bed with his head nestled against Harry's right shoulder, his right foot hanging over the edge of the mattress. He reaches over now and pats Harry's stomach. "Hungry?"

"Not really," Harry says. They haven't turned any lights on, and it's dark enough out now that most of the color has bled from the room; next to him Eggsy looks like he's been carved from ivory.

"Thinkin' about it, though," Eggsy says.

Harry hums in agreement. He's still not ready to get up yet.

"Wanna hear somethin'?" Eggsy says.

"Of course," he replies.

"I used to dream about this," Eggsy says.

Harry turns his head so he can get a better look at Eggsy. "This?"

Eggsy shrugs a bit, the movement jostling Harry's arm. He keeps his gaze on the ceiling, though. "When I was still trying to be Lancelot. I used to imagine we had a place together. And we would live there when we wasn't off being Kingsman spies together." He shrugs again. "It was kinda stupid, I know, but it got me through some tough times in training. Gave me something to look forward to."

Harry is deeply touched, mostly because they barely knew each other during Eggsy's training. He wasn't even conscious for most of it, to his bitter shame. Nonetheless, it fills him with peculiar warmth to know that Eggsy thought such things so early in their relationship. Almost as if he knew that someday the time would be right.

He smiles. "And is it everything you thought it would be?"

"No," Eggsy says.

Startled, Harry's smile disappears. "No?"

"It's a million fucking times better," Eggsy says with a grin.

Chagrined, Harry shakes his head. He walked right into that one. He's helpless not to smile again as he presses a kiss to Eggsy's forehead, about the only part of him he can reach unless he gets up. "I'm very glad," he says.

"That's it?" Eggsy says. He rolls his head on the pillow so he can look at Harry, a cocky grin on his face. "That's all you got for me?"

"What more would you like?" Harry says. "You already have everything I have to give."

"That's… But…" Eggsy's grin melts and his eyes soften. "You big romantic, you."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Harry says, and he's not one bit ashamed to admit it. Now that they're lying face to face, he leans in and kisses Eggsy properly, taking his time about it, too.

"Mmm," Eggsy says. His lips curve upward in a satisfied smile. "I guess there's nothing wrong with that."

"I should hope not," Harry says, "considering that you seem to be in the exact same boat as me."

Eggsy gazes at him, that smile still lingering about his mouth, although his eyes are rather more serious. "Only for you," he says. His smile becomes something more uncertain. "You know I love you, yeah?"

It's not something they say out loud very often. Perhaps they should, especially given the danger they are so frequently exposed to. Lying there in the gloom with the only person he has ever loved, Harry decides that yes, he will make an effort to say it more. Beginning right now.

"And I love you," he says, just before he kisses Eggsy again, slow and deep.

"And I love you," he breathes.

"And I love you." 

****

Harry Hart definitely doesn't believe in things like fate or predestination. Then again, he doesn't need to.

He knows that some things are simply meant to be.


End file.
